


You Feel Right (So Stay A Sec)

by klancingthecube (hazyamethyst)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, klance - Fandom
Genre: Angst, BOM Keith, Confused Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Langst, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Soft keith, and it's a bit of a songfic in a way, ignore the last paragraph and you got yourself a happy ending yay :'), the ending can be interpreted in many ways as it is, this is set around s6 ig, touch-starved lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyamethyst/pseuds/klancingthecube
Summary: He’s been through this, countless times, both in space and on Earth. He’s just lovesick for no-one, he’s missing a faceless presence, he’s feeling cold under perfectly nice and clean blankets.People, he’s tired of them.- based on the song' Hostage' by Billie Eilish.





	You Feel Right (So Stay A Sec)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm still here hoping to someday contribute more than angst to this fandom. I swear it'll happen! I have so many fluffy 5k klance fics in the works...and yet I get around to finishing this one. I'm (maybe) sorry.  
> WHo doesn't need a daily dose of angst, right? :'D
> 
> >>CW:  
> *depression  
> *self-defeating inner monologue
> 
> >>Disclaimer:  
> This fic features a few center-aligned paragraphs in cursive. They're actually verses from the song 'Hostage' by Billie Eilish. The title is taken from it too. I don't claim authorship of them, all credit goes to her!

_I wanna be alone_  
_Alone with you - does that make sense?_  
_I wanna steal your soul_  
_And hide you in my treasure chest_

  
  
Lance pauses the song playing through his headphones and forces himself out of bed. He’s been through this, countless times, both in space and on Earth. He’s just lovesick for no-one, he’s missing a faceless presence, he’s feeling cold under perfectly nice and clean blankets. People, he’s tired of them. They all have problems and brains and a seemingly endless will to do things and it’s making less and less sense to Lance. Sure, Shiro is being high-key weird. Sure, Allura had a change of heart and is siding up with Lotor.  Sure, Pidge reunited with her family. It’s all the same, even as he smiles and nods and makes an attempt at being funny. He’s past caring and worrying most of the time. Why won’t everyone just shut up and go to sleep? What’s so bad about being in silence and doing nothing all day? Even food is not as amazing as Hunk makes it out to be. What’s the deal with skipping one or two meals?  It’s not like his mother is anywhere close by to stuff spoonful after spoonful of lasagna down his throat. No, he’s been fighting an intergalactic war that’s slowly coming to an end. Zarkon is dead, and people everywhere are celebrating their rightfully retrieved freedom once more. Cool, now they can go to sleep too. Aren’t they tired of all the noise and mayhem, anyway?

He, for one, is. The team isn’t being exactly considerate of him but he’d manage. He’s just hiding in Keith’s room and that’s that. It’s quieter here, people don’t knock and he hasn’t heard of Keith for ages, BoM’s communications aside. In which he’s perfectly quiet and still, not unlike a statue.

Maybe he too realized what a waste of breath talking is.

Maybe he knew all along.

  
  
_I don't know what to do_  
_To do with your kiss on my neck_  
_I don't know what feels true_  
_But this feels right so stay a sec_  
_Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec_

There’s no shutting them out, though. The things he’s been dreaming about are consistently losing all trace of vagueness, and along with it any safe quality there might have been to them. Growing pensive, he reviews how ending up in space could be considered a direct result of Lance Mcclain being a busybody- it could even be argued the sole reason they’re down their best pilot is him, too. Many things were said, a few meant, a lot just a means to choke on and fuel regret. There are ways he sees Keith’s departure play out in his mind, and though most end with himself in some pathetic denial scenario, of what went down, of how he’ll leave and it still doesn’t feel right, for a moment things settle, all that burgeoning chaos is left aside for others to deal with. It makes sense, and it’s good, touching and kissing and half-babbled apologies echoed in meek low huffs. He’s warm, and soft at the edges, even where there’s clearly muscle underneath. Slim neck, sloppy lips, there’s tangled hair and shivers and thighs locking on thighs and it dawns on him, at times, how he’s dreaming of an intimacy so unknown to him so naturally. He’s never been so close to the other boy for more than a few seconds during fights, no, never felt thighs clicking and slotting where needed, smoothly, or hands roaming and pushing and demanding, knuckles defined and tensing as fingers move and twist and pinch and all he does is blush, and keen, like that’s all there is to Keith’s strength, just using it on him. Like it could be enough to keep him away.

Like a dangling shiny thing, he could be that.  There’s no reason someone so fiery would walk away from a feeling so easily intense.

Or is it the water sloshing the flame again?

The Blades? Them, and their sharp knives and catchy maxims.

What is it that they do?

How?

  
  
_And let me crawl inside your veins_  
_I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain_  
_It's not like me to be so **mean**_  
_You're all I wanted_  
_Just let me hold you_  
_Like a hostage_

 

Time passes, undeterred by it all, and eventually Keith is there. Back at his side, somehow taller. Not that Lance notes this anymore than the broader shoulders, the commanding tone or the oozing confidence. His entrance is nothing short of explosive, even as his step is light, there are revelations on his tongue, there’s fire in his speech and that much missed glint in his eye. It makes Lance feel kind of little, all of it, all the reassurance he doesn’t get when he wears his heart on his sleeve like he can’t ever help it around Keith, and he’s still brushed off.

Years passed where he’s been, Keith explains, like it might lessen the shock of seeing his Galra mom aboard, a wolf and an Altean of all things. Romelle, as he soon learns she’s called, has her markings glowing prettily against her skin. She has long blonde hair, floating earrings like Allura, and the mandatory tragic background that speaks of the sadness that seeps through her features. She’s background noise, even as he tries, his focal point is the hair he mocked, the same wiry strands, annoying, and everything his fingers itch to comb. His thoughts echo on and feed off each other, a yearning growing so big he fears it’ll eat him inside out, messy, leave him sputtering blood at the feet of the boy he’s so smitten with and even then he won’t be able to get it out, not a word that matters. Maybe if he could, Keith would take him more seriously, see him as an equal, someone worth trusting and opening up to. He knows getting on Keith nerves is no fast ticket to becoming that person, but he’s got no choice being Lance.  He’s not one to spit out soft words and lay his vulnerabilities bare, no matter how good the prize. He’s been exposed to rejection enough to learn how to cope. To learn how to cover it swiftly, fake it, and be happier overall without the burden of humiliation that being sincere comes with. 

.

.

.

“Lance, got a minute?”

A minute. He’d wasted so many of those, by himself. He even looks it, alone, while everyone already scurried off to do some task or another, none of which he paid attention to while being discussed. Right, he got caught up in his thoughts again. It’s whatever.

“Keith.” He nods, throat closing at the feel of saying that name aloud. Again. “What’s up?”

“About before, uh, things got sort of hectic.” Keith crosses the now empty room and stops right by his side, presumably to enjoy the glittery view of space the glass panels offer. Lance turns to look at him and finds himself level with shoulders, though.  Below, there are arms crossed over his chest and, just slightly above, a head hangs low. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“It’s whatever.” Lance repeats, for good measure. It’s pretty much become his mantra.

“No, I- I mean it. I’m glad to see you too.” Keith kicks at thin air and shakes his head. “A lot of things have happened where I’ve been,  and then we found out about Romelle with Krolia, my mom, and then Shiro and the clone situation…it feels like I’ve been thrown around back and forth in all this madness, and there was just _so much_ going on-“ He gestures, moving to pace around a bit while holding his hunched posture. They're familiar, to some extent, his antics. In a faraway alternate-reality, perhaps, Lance would find a way to join the Blade alongside Keith, to keep _fighting_ alongside him. Help him save Shiro, put to use that stupid broadsword he’d unlocked and the knowledge of, well, their real Shiro calling for help. Keep Kolivan and his brainwashing ways in check, too.

He’s stuck, however, where nothing makes sense. Where he’s a hindrance, where he’s helplessly in love with his rival that not only left quick like a well-shot laser beam but came back twice as bright and sudden, years older instead of months, wiser, and all-around unattainable. He’s bragging, Lance gets it. He’s been up to so much, he’s just _so much._ It must be exhilarating.  He deserves it.   “I – I didn’t have time to properly sit down and think, catch up. I’ve learned many things while being so close to where time collapses...some of them, I don’t know what to do with. I’m still trying to process what it all means. Where that leaves me, I guess. ”

“Sure you’ll figure it out, you’re plenty smart.” Lance rolls his eyes, “Congratulations. Kudos to you, all that jazz.” He’s trying, at least, not to confront. Just fade and go to sleep. With this in mind, he cracks his knuckles and books it quietly towards the door that led to the hallway. “Try to get some sleep maybe? You’ve earned it, surely. I’m gonna head to my room now.”

“Lance, wait.”

“Dude. What?” Lance yanks his wrist back, startled that Keith would pull such a move and actually grab him. He needs space, Keith of all people should have got that memo.

“You’re not just leaving like that? Lance?” He speaks, in what’s supposed to be a soft tone, if only his raspy voice would allow such thing. Lance watches the dark bangs swing, longer, and still barely concealing the forming frown. He wants to smile at it, take the bait. Have the will to be warmer overall. “If you’re still mad about earlie-.”

“Keith, no. I’m getting out of your hair, I’m sure you have way more important things to do. We’re good. Apologies accepted, _bueno_ , we’re square.” He throws his arms open in a gesture of tired exasperation. “Whatever you like, man. It’s fine.”

“Did something happen?”

“When is something _not_ happening, you mean?”

“To you, I mean.”

It’s Lance’s turn to frown. Keith might be a trust-your-gut kind of person but perceptive? It didn’t add up. He plays along, anyway. Gives him the truth in all of its shock factor glory. “I died. Came back. Same old. Not all of us can have some fantastic coming of age adventures and missions.” With a half-heated shrug, he looks past a very still Keith and back at where the faint stars and squarey planets blink by as they navigate this galaxy. Too soon, he’s pulled the other way, shoulders shaken “What’s that face, dude, woah-”

“What. What do you mean you _died_?!”

“Uh,” The hands on his shoulders squeeze and Lance feels himself growing tense. “We’re people, Keith? Flesh and bone? We all die.”

Keith barks back, “Not _you_. What the hell Lance?! Are you even hearing yourself speak?”

“Don't- let’s call it a night, yes?”

“It’s not even midday in Earth time.”  Keith quips, holding up his phablet like the expert killjoy he is. Lance swats at it, annoyed, only to find himself with Keith hands back on his shoulders. One moment they're grounding, the next they're driving him up the wall.

“Dude. Who. Cares.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not some stranger.” He isn’t having it, isn’t letting it go. Why would he? He’s…Keith. Keith, who eases his hold on him after some intense staring contest goes down in complete silence, a hand moving when he loses, not too far. Lance feels tingles of relief spreading, where fingers rub away the tension in his neck. Yeah, this has to be about where he wakes up. Of course, he’s never left his bed. That has to be it.  “Also, me. I care. I care about you, Lance.”

“O-kay, look, we’re fighting a war here.” Lance squirms under the gentle touch, knowing he can’t have this, dream or not, it’s weirdly intimate and Keith, it’s him, who he needs to get away from and stop thinking about, whose chest he pushes with all his might in a surge of pent-up emotion. Taking some steps back he collects himself, dusting off his jeans and taking some calming breaths. “I don’t know if meeting your mom got you _soft_ or you’re getting old and forgetful but if there’s _anyone_ that cannot say a thing about it is _you,_ after your sacrifice thingy back with Haggar.”

“I didn't- how do you know about that?” Keith mumbles, gasp barely stifled, eyes wide.

“Matt, Keith. Matt heard you. Anyway, that stunt? _Stupid_. You dying is plain stupid, like, borderline selfish? Take a look at everything you’re capable of _and_ accomplish. All the time!” Lance counts his fingers, unable to stop running his mouth. “Leader of Voltron, expert BoM member, savior of the lost city of Alteans, practically Shiro’s guardian angel by now, and who knows what else in the near future. Me, though?” He extends his arms and claps his hands to emphasize his next words, lest Keith misses the point. “I was just trying to _help_ , since, you know, there’s not much I ever do here at all, but whatever.”

“That’s not true, Lance.”

“You haven’t been here.” The nerve of him, Lance mutters, giving a final clap and continuing his explanation out of pure spite. “You weren’t there I-. **_I_** spotted something was going to explode next to Blue, rushed in to push away from it then- _boom_. Lights out. The princess came for me, did her crazy magic ritual and brought me back, and- _no_ ” He shuts his eyes, as if that’d ward off the headache the memory brings, the notion that he wouldn’t get there in time, wouldn’t be able to do a thing but watch someone he cares about being hurt. “I didn’t feel anything. There wasn’t a movie reel of my most precious memories playing, no white light, no angels, _nada_. It’s like it never happened. Ask around, I bet no one even remembers. It’s war, _it happens_. ”

“No.”

Arms envelop him slowly after he’s done with his confession, and it’s bad, feeling so held together after he’d said so much, more than enough to allow Keith a glimpse into his stormy state of mind. He was being polite surely, but to Lance it felt like the lifeline that’d pull him out of this mess, stop him from sinking any deeper even as his eyes grew wet behind tightly closed lids, even as his arms twitched by his own sides. Keith just had a way of getting through him, of making him conflicted about things he knows he’d be better off keeping in. He planted the seed of doubt in him, every time. It used to be grounding, like this, when he stuck around afterwards, to do damage control.    

“No, no, absolutely not,” their foreheads bump, like stray marbles might, with a click too soft to be noticed, and so they stay there, forgotten. “Come to train with me after lunch, okay?”

There’s a hand, running up and down his back, smoothing out the wrinkles of his worn jacket. Waiting, like the passing of time is nothing worth fretting over. He blinks at that thought, zeroing in on the purple that sometimes refuses to get caught up in the black that makes up Keith’s eyes. It’s settling, for whatever little time it lasts. “I’m not in the mood, Keith. This is not me being difficult, really. I don’t want food. I’m- I’m tired.”

“I can see that.” He sighs, the puff of warm air tickling his nose. “I’m sorry.”

Looking to the side, to the door, perhaps longingly, Lance hums. He isn't done getting attention and a quiet reassurance, the perfect mix to make him come undone, but- it's overwhelming, all the touches and full-on close proximity. He used to know this brand of casual intimacy well enough to find comfort in it, a soothe to any and all ache. Trying to revert to that version of himself, he reaches out to grab a wild strand of Keith’s puffy hair and arranges it behind a slightly red ear. He pats a shoulder then, tilting his head in thought. “You have no idea just how bad- you don’t understand how it’s been.” He smirks at Keith's glum expression returning, the hands over his ribcages freezing in place even when Lance purposefully takes a deep breath and lets it go.  “None of it.”

“You can tell me. At lunch.” Keith says, rushed, voice losing its calm edge and giving Lance the feeling of being ordered, like when in Voltron. “We can eat in my room. Heard there’s a game console there hooked up and all.”

“Oh, ‘heard’. ‘Cause you’re so social, right.” Lance sneers, grabbing Keith hands by the wrist and taking a step to the side, dropping them in the process.  “Definitely not me forgetting to be sneaky.”

“Yeah.” Keith agrees blandly, doing that half-eye roll thing that’s altogether too reminiscent of his younger self. If Lance squints, maybe, it could be just life before. “I missed you Lance.”

“Sure thing.” He bites the inside of his cheek, knowing Keith is being oblivious to the weight those words hold for him. He’s just being the good guy Shiro brought up, the one Krolia must be so proud of. He turns around to leave, giving Keith a little wave before he does so.

“I mean it.”

There’s a flurry of motion to his side, steps being hopped quick by deft feet so that in a second he’s bumping into a bulkier body, his cheek being kissed by lips too dry, that come and go quick, the hand that flew to ruffle his hair marginally more lasting but just as awkward in nature.

“I’m going to take a nap now, Keith.” Lance clarifies, signaling the door just a step away. “In my room. ”

“I’m coming to get you later.” Lance nods, noticing the tight grip Keith has on the railing. He slips out of the room with it in his mind, the image of his hands, gloveless and pale. Lance doubts he’s ever truly seen them like that before. But he’s heard some variation of those words, of Keith announcing he’s _going to get_ someone, during some rescue or other, surely. Directed at him, though? He’s weak for it, every time.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers to himself as he pads down the dim hallway. “You always say that, sometimes even...” he brings a hand up, fingers ghosting over his parted lips.

This is better, it’s sweet.

It’s right, not too over-the-top.

It’s appropriate: both a beginning and closure.

It’s midnight when he wakes up, tear-stained cheeks gone cold, neck full of knots. Stomach empty and rumbling shyly. Leather starting to peel off the red jacket and get on the bedspread. He hugs it closer, uncaring.

Of course.

 

_God's fake and real love hurts_  
_And nothing hurts when I'm alone  
When you're with me and we're alone_

**Author's Note:**

> ... and so the timeline was a mess for a reason- or wasn't it ?) *cues in the x-files theme song*
> 
> Comments/ kudos/ cute kaomoji make my day (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
> 
>  
> 
> [if you make fanart of any of my fics please let me know i'll love you forever](https://klancingthecube.tumblr.com/)


End file.
